


Awake

by SpaceshipsAreCool



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fake Dating, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceshipsAreCool/pseuds/SpaceshipsAreCool
Summary: Kara’s greatest secret isn’t that she is an alien, but rather that she was wide awake during her 24 years in the Phantom Zone- wide awake and in communication with Earth. Now, years later, working as Cat Grant’s assistant, she must strive to maintain that secret even as Cat seems determined to discover how Kara is connected to the anonymous writer from her past.





	1. Chapter One

It was the screaming that woke her, a constant unabating cry, and she felt a flash of irritation at the disruption. She had been enjoying herself in her rest. Not dreaming exactly, she had been far too powered down for that, but she had been drifting in a state as near to oblivion as one could hope to achieve. It had been the closest she had come to true happiness in years, maybe her entire life, and now…

 

She wished whoever it was would stop so that she could slip back into her little corner of the void. Screams were hardly uncommon or unwarranted in this place of monsters and they had long ceased to bother her for any reason other than aesthetic. Still, for the aesthetic alone she would be more than happy to kill the person in question, as would any number of her fellow shipmates.

 

If she could move she would have rolled over and covered her ears, assuming that she wasn’t in a position to carry out her earlier threat of execution. It would have been a useless gesture, the screams were reverberating in her mind, not in the air around her, after all, but she could have taken some personal satisfaction from the small show of disregard. Even that was denied her at the moment, however, because she couldn’t move, her body frozen with all the rest.

 

She knew what had happened, she was probably the only prisoner that did. Maybe a few of the Kryptonian terrorists had guessed but she was the only one who knew for sure. The scientists and law enforcement officials that had sentenced her to Fort Rozz had found a way to keep her from being able to manipulate any of the programing in the prison, but there was nothing they could do to completely seal her off. As a result, she had always had more knowledge, always been able to monitor the systems and read the reports, even as she remained powerless to effect change.

 

It was why she was the only prisoner that really understood what had been happening when the guards had come to lock them all away in the cryogenic chambers. It was the highest level of an emergency security measure that had been triggered by Krypton’s destruction, although she was sure that whoever had designed it had only put it in place in case of an accidental signal failure from the planet, not its complete loss. But whatever the initial thought behind the protocol, it had been carried out, the guards entering their own chambers as soon as the last prisoner was secured.

 

In theory, she supposed, they were waiting for someone from an allied world to come reactivate them. But not many other worlds had the same qualms about killing dangerous prisoners that the Kryptonians did, and she highly doubted that anyone cared enough about the guards to send a rescue. Leaving Fort Rozz to drift in stasis was by far the easiest and most politically savvy solution, and it was unlikely that an intervention would be forthcoming anytime soon.

 

And that was perfectly alright with her. Sleeping in her chamber without awareness was preferable to the endless cycles of monotony and pain of an active prison, preferable to every attempt at a lesser degree of rest being interrupted by screams.

 

Except that somehow, even in this state, there were still screams that had broken through.

 

Yes, it was true that the freezing temperatures that affected every other being on this ship couldn’t do much to her other than keep her immobile, not able to force a sleeping mental state without her consent, but she _had_ consented, that was the thing. Of course she had consented to sleep, of course she had let herself drift off with all the rest. Most on board this ship would be dreaming, and whether nightmares or bliss they wouldn’t register the passage of time when they eventually woke back up. But she had gone further and opted for oblivion, powering herself down because even in dreams her mind was far more powerful than most, and even in dreams she would retain some level of self-awareness.

 

And what would she see then? She didn’t want to know. An entire planet had burned and did she care? If she dreamed would she imagine its destruction, hear those dying cries? They had once said that she had tried to do something similar, to cause destruction on that same scale, so clearly she wasn’t capable of caring about it. Not in any remorseful sense at least. It was why they had claimed that they were sending her here in the first place, even if they hadn’t given her a chance to defend herself or plead her case.

 

It was how things went with her race. They were treated like people as long as they were controlled, as long as they smiled and bowed and served. But the moment they deviated from that path suddenly they were told that there was an irreversible flaw in their system, suddenly they were machines. Oh still sentient enough not to simply be destroyed, to be sure, but not remotely worthy of pity or consideration.

 

And _had_ she nearly done that? What they had accused her of? In the end it didn’t matter. Intent and outcome were meaningless compared to her true crime, showing herself to be capable of more than she was allowed. It was the real reason she was here, the real reason she had been locked away. And so she had opted for oblivion because she wasn’t sure which would be worse, to dream of death and pain and loss and care, or to dream of it and not feel a thing.

 

But regardless, one thing that she absolutely _was_ sure of was that she did not care about the screams of just one person.

 

If only they would just shut up. If only…

 

They wouldn’t, not until whoever it was was too broken to need or even want to fill the silence anymore. One of the chambers must have malfunctioned, it was the obvious explanation. It was still working well enough to keep the subject alive and physically immobile, but the mechanism that forced the occupant to sleep had failed. It would be a particular kind of torture and she was sure that the screams had been going on for some time already, they must have, for them to have breached through to her sheltered mind.

 

Yet even knowing that she didn’t care, even as she absolutely did not feel pity, even then she still had enough of a soul left to feel some small degree of horror at what was happening. When they had put her into the chamber she had seen two options, to sleep and dream, as was standard, or to shut herself down and slip into nothingness. But to stay awake? Alone in this place? It had never even presented as an option. Something like that was unthinkable. It was…

 

She tried to block out the noise. She didn’t care. And in any event there was nothing she could do.

 

 _“Two years,”_ the thought broke through just as she had almost succeeded in returning to her slumber. She hadn’t meant to, but it was almost second nature to check. Time didn’t pass in the same way in the Phantom Zone but there was still an internal tracking on the ship, and according to that it had been two years since Krypton had exploded. Two years since whoever it was had been sentenced to this fate.

 

It still didn’t matter. She still didn’t care. But how long had it been before that person had started screaming? How long before their own thoughts had run out and all they had had left to fill the expanse was the unending cry?

 

Despite herself she reached out. And… nothing.

 

The screaming was still there, louder than ever now that she had let herself look for it, but it wasn’t coming from the ship.

 

_“There!”_

 

It was something she had never felt in this place before, a second ship, although one much smaller than Fort Rozz. It was that ship that was the source of the screaming, or rather, the young child nestled inside. Not that it mattered. Except… except…

 

Except that that ship didn’t have the same sort of protections against her abilities that the prison had, and now that she was aware of it she could _feel_ it, and she knew that it could so easily fall under her control.

 

 _“It’s just so that I can go back to sleep,”_ she told herself, and in case some part of her didn’t fully believe that statement she added, _“and I haven’t been able to play with technology in so long. I just want a taste of it again, I just want to remember what it was like.”_

 

It took less than a second for her to infiltrate the systems, and although she had been wrong about the source of the signal, she had been close in her assessment of the problem. The program that was supposed to put the child to sleep had malfunctioned. No, not malfunctioned. If it was just that she could have fixed it with a thought. It was broken, physically damaged in the shockwave from the exploding planet that had pushed the girl off course.

 

Because she could see that now, that the child was a girl. She could see the face clearly in her mind’s eye even as those screams continued to reach her through the link. But she still didn’t… and it was the child’s own fault. Not the destruction of Krypton, obviously, but the final event that had led her to this fate. The ship had been on autopilot but the girl had taken manual control in the last few seconds and turned the ship around to watch the planet fall.

 

 _“Brave girl,”_ an unbidden thought. _“Stupid, stupid child.”_

 

She wouldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have looked back, whether for her home world or any other. What had made this small Kryptonian do it? Had it been to run home, a desire to die with her family? Or something else? To mark the event as no one else would? In either case it had slowed the ship down just enough that it hadn’t cleared the blast radius. And everything that had come after, the damage to the systems, the course diversion, all of that had been because of the child’s mistake. There was no way that this girl didn’t know that, didn’t realize that whatever task she had been given, whatever she had been sent away to do, that it wouldn’t be fulfilled because of her own last minute error.

 

And still the screaming continued.

 

Was it an act of mercy that made her look for the self-destruct sequence? No, of course not, but her mind sought it out anyway, and it wasn’t as if she could just set the pod back on course. That was one of the tricks of the Phantom Zone, one of the reasons the prison was so secure. Traditional propulsion systems wouldn’t work in here and it would take an explosion of some magnitude to first knock the pod back into normal space. Which was unlikely to occur, not without someone who was able to set the charge in the first place, someone who was also willing, someone...

 

Her mind hovered over the trigger, not to give the child relief, it was just so that she could stop the noise. But where had the ship been heading? What had been this girl’s intended destiny? She paused a moment longer to check, her curiosity getting the better of her. And there it was, a path to a planet called Earth, but not just a path, also a… a signal?

 

It was buried and she hadn’t seen it on her first pass but there was a connection, something that was supposed to feed active media information from the planet into the neural link. It was designed to provide an open channel so that when the girl arrived her sleeping mind would have already learned about the various cultures and languages. It should have engaged as soon as the child fell asleep, but as she never had, it was still awaiting activation.

 

Exploring the connection, she didn’t quite dare to let herself hope, which was just as well as that hope would have been shattered. She had thought that maybe she could use the signal, could leave her body behind and let her consciousness roam free, but that would have required a stronger connection. Her mind contained far too much data to allow her to transverse such a distance on that weak of a signal without pieces of herself becoming corrupted or splintering off, and the planet was not nearly interesting enough to hold her attention without the promise of escape.

 

But it might be interesting to the child, it might… and it was just possible that where she herself was unable to travel, the child wouldn’t be so limited. The technology wasn’t advanced enough at the moment but in a few years the Earthlings would have a primitive internet, and with the girl’s more direct connection and less mechanized mind, she might find a way to reach out. But not yet, no, at the moment the data only went one way. Even so, it might be enough.

 

She wavered between that system and the self-destruct. Surely death would be better, be welcomed by this child. Surely two years in the abyss had already destroyed her beyond reprieve. Surely…

 

But if it had, then the girl wouldn’t even have been able to scream.

 

She tried not to think about her reasons, about the fact that there might be some small part of her left that _did_ care, as she made one minor alteration to the ships programing. It wasn’t much and maybe there was no hope, but on the other hand perhaps… perhaps someday there would be someone that would come for the prison and find a child that wasn’t quite broken, kept on the edge of sanity by this connection to the outside universe.

 

Indigo didn’t bother to wait and see if the girl noticed the change, if it was enough to break through the continued screams, focusing her attention instead on blocking everything out and losing herself once more in empty relief. But as her awareness faded she couldn’t stop one last thought from creeping into her mind, the realization that her action might well have been pointless. This was the Phantom Zone after all, and child or no, once this place had laid its claim they all became monsters in the end.


	2. Chapter Two

Cat glared down at the budget proposal, red pen poised over the page to slash anything she deemed to be unnecessary. This was the seventh such request she had looked at this morning and while normally she enjoyed this, finding the numbers soothing in their ordered predictability, today she had no patience for the inevitable attempts to slip extra perks into the budget. There was always at least one department that thought that they could get away with planning an expensive vacation by claiming that it was a team building exercise, and why anyone thought CatCo funds should be used for birthday celebrations was beyond her. If her employees wanted to partake in such frivolous bonding activities, then they could damn well do so on their own dime.

 

Still, during her typical perusal she did take some satisfaction from those bids, or rather, the opportunities they gave her to use her red pen so liberally. Sometimes she even let something slide if the cover story was clever enough, a subtle way to encourage the kind of out-of-the-box thinking that would continue to ensure the success of her company.

 

But not today.

 

With a frustrated growl she tossed the page aside knowing she would have to redo this all later anyway. She wasn’t sure which departments the last three proposals had even come from and she knew for a fact that on the third one she had docked expenses for necessary items simply because she had given herself a papercut and had decided that the document in question was to blame. That was ridiculous, of course, especially as she was well aware of what, or who rather, was really responsible for her mood. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with the budget.

 

Checking her watch Cat did a quick mental calculation of how long it would take her to reduce her assistant to tears. If she was being honest with herself she could probably do it in under a minute, but to get the full dramatic effect she was aiming for she would plan at least three. One minute would grant her a shuffling, tearful exit, but three…? Three would guarantee a full out sobbing run.

 

She wanted to do it now, was itching for a way to relive some of the excess tension running through her veins, but was still too early. The appointment wasn’t until 10:15, which meant that Cat still had twelve minutes to kill before she could make her move. Security had been instructed not to let the interviewee up until 10:14, and, assuming she wasn’t late, (and really, who would dare to be late for an interview with The Cat Grant?), the girl would arrive just as the current assistant was cast aside.

 

Cat’s gaze fell on her target through the glass walls of her office, eyes narrowing as she took in the hunched, slightly fearful cant to the woman’s shoulders. It was almost as if she could sense her impending fate, but that would probably be giving her too much credit. For just a moment Cat felt a twinge of something—sympathy, maybe? None of this was really about the woman, after all, she had just happened to fit what Cat needed for this day. Unfortunate, yes, but that wasn’t Cat’s problem. Even so…  

 

But no, Cat did _not_ do that—feel sorry for her employees. True, the woman wasn’t awful at her job, but not nearly good enough to warrant keeping around even if she hadn’t been hired expressly with this termination in mind. Maybe she should make a few pointed calls later today however, just to make sure that someone else hired her soon…

 

Cat’s hands balled into fists, teeth clenching in annoyance as she realized what she had been considering. She was supposed to be beyond this by now, she had had years to let the lesson sink in, the betrayal that had taught her that emotions had no place in the world of journalism. Clearly the recent discovery had brought back unwanted habits from her past, something that she was fully intent on rectifying as soon as was humanly possible.

 

Seven minutes left. Seven, and she could call for her assistant, and then three minutes later she could begin putting this all behind her once and for all.

 

Her phone buzzed and Cat’s heart began to pound in her chest as she read the notification from the security desk. This was it. Kara Danvers, the girl who was responsible for Cat’s current restlessness, was here.

 

Glancing at her assistant once more, Cat shoved any residual weakness aside. There were far more important things to focus on and a quiet dismissal was out of the question given what was at stake. She ignored the small voice in her head that pointed out that her sensitivity was more than just the momentary lapse, that everything she had done to arrange this interview had been driven by emotion in one form or another. She refused to accept that. This was about a story, nothing more. A story this girl alone could lead her to. It had nothing to do with the anger and… guilt? No, not guilt, not for _her_. Anger and bitterness—yes, that was it. This had nothing to do with the anger and bitterness of eleven years ago.

 

Cat forced her hands to relax, uncurling her fingers and running them over the smooth surface of her desk to keep them flat. Five minutes left.

 

Growing up Cat had learned to expect to be disappointed by the people in her life. Her father had died while she was still a little girl, too young to understand that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. While as an adult she could look back at him with fondness, her memories of him were marred by that first initial hurt. Her mother was still alive, but even the possibility of Katherine Grant being an inspiring figure to her was laughable. Cat was always seeking her approval, always pushing herself further in search of it, but not once had she ever looked up to her mother, or ever seen her as anyone who could offer guidance.

 

There had been other figures in her life who had taught her to be wary of people as well. Teachers who had rejected her ambitions out of hand and bosses who had treated her as just a pretty face. So Cat Grant had never had a personal hero, not until _she_ had started writing. In Cat’s mind, the anonymous author who went simply as ‘E.M’ had always been a woman. It was just one of those things that she had thought she had known about her, one of the many Cat had come to count on as the years passed.

 

It all started twenty-two years ago when she was a young reporter working at the _Daily Planet_ , exactly one week after the celebrity she had so praised in her fluff piece had murdered his wife and killed himself. It had been a pivotal moment for Cat. Not just because of the devastation she had felt at that outcome, at knowing she might have been able to stop it, but also because in that first week she had almost locked it all away.

 

That would have been easier, she knew. It would have been easier to say that it wasn’t her responsibility, that she had been sent to write a fluff story not an exposé. It would have been easier still to argue that she had just been doing her job, burying the guilt she had felt underneath a guise of professionalism. If she had, Cat had no doubt that she would still be a famous journalist today, but she never would have branched out on her own. She would have stayed there, at the _Daily Planet_ , and that one instance where she had been willing to compromise would have become two, then three, and eventually she would have stopped counting.

 

And Cat had almost been willing to do it. She had been on the verge of shoving aside her ethics, the _wrongness_ she had felt while writing the article, for the comfort that towing the line would have offered. But then she had seen it.

 

Cat should have just passed over it, there were no sources to give it credibility or big sponsors to make it stand out, but for whatever reason she had given the article a chance. A chance she almost regretted after the first few lines left her cringing at the language. It was clear that the writer had never studied formally, that her style was based on verbal communication, news as it was reported on the radio or tv rather than how it should appear in a written format. But as Cat had read further her frown had dropped away and she found herself leaning in to stare more intently.

 

That was the day Cat discovered her hero—her inspiration. The person who more than anyone else had shaped her rise to fame. Those articles crossed cultural and social boundaries, reporting news stories from all sides instead of just one. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been any other news sources that presented unbiased reporting, but no one else seemed to have the access or distance this writer did, and inevitably some cultural or personal bias was always present if you knew how to look for it.

 

But that bias wasn’t present there.

 

The first article was short, eight-hundred words at most, and it relayed a story about a young woman who had risked her life to save a stranger from a dangerous undertow. It was the kind of thing you heard all the time, a small act of heroism that provided a ‘feel-good’ moment before drifting into obscurity. Except that no matter how common such a tale should have been, when presented by this writer, it wasn’t.

 

The story was from a small town on a minor island in the Pacific. Cat was sure it had probably been reported on by local radio news, but there was no reason it should have been translated into English. Not when there were fifty similar accountings that could be found much closer to home. That by itself was memorable, although it still would have been easy to pass the article by. What made it truly different was the fact that it wasn’t just written about a victim and hero. It was written about the people behind those labels.

 

These types of pieces normally lauded a person’s actions, treating them like a two-dimensional figure even as they attempted to give depth by speculating on the various individuals’ pasts. It wasn’t a real depth though; it was just a trick. This article hadn’t cared about that. It didn’t gush over whether or not the savior had stayed by the victim after the event, didn’t search for a troubled past that she had had to overcome. No, it did something else. It made her real.

 

Because there was a desperation there, behind the words. Cat knew she shouldn’t have been able to read that from one piece alone, and she admitted to herself that she could have been wrong, but she didn’t think so. Not when she was so very familiar with a similar longing.

 

Despite her claims to the contrary, Cat was an incredibly tactile person but she constantly denied herself that affection. Her desire for touch had led her to pull away from others, physically holding herself back even as she used cutting remarks and icy glares to distance herself from all but a select few. She took herself to the extreme because that was the only way to ensure that her need didn’t bleed through accidently into her carefully crafted world of business and control. A world that was hard enough for a woman already. But it was always there, her desire, always a constant pull that she could not ignore.

 

And it was that pull that she recognized in the article. That desperation to just be with people, a part of them. Cat got the feeling that the author truly needed them to be real. Such a reality demanded both faults and triumphs. It was completely unbiased and yet utterly personal at the same time, and Cat couldn’t help but wonder how different from her own this author’s take on the celebrity couple would have been.

 

It wasn’t until nearly two years later that Cat had realized just how much of an effect it had had on her. She had continued to follow the author, reading yet more seemingly irrelevant pieces, and the next time someone had asked her to compromise her ethics, to report on something with just a slight twist, she had said no. And no again.

 

She had said no until people had realized that when Cat Grant reported something she was really reporting it. She had said no until she had been fired from the _Daily Planet_ for her refusal to sugarcoat a local politician. She had said no until the radio show she had started as a result became one of the top news programs in the country. And all the while she had been following the author, watching as she explored the world in a way that Cat could only dream of. Those dreams had spurred her on and when she had trademarked the name ‘CatCo’ several years later, she had known that someday her business would be just as international.

 

For all of those things Cat had been thankful, was still thankful. But for everything else? If it was just that Cat would have been fine, she could have thanked the writer for helping her through her crisis, for serving as an unknowing mentor for so many years. If it had been just a matter of teaching Cat how to look at people and see the entire story it never would have come to this, to Cat’s actions today.

 

 _“Yes it would have!”_ She tried to argue the point, falling back on the line she had been telling herself for the past four months. There was a story here, she knew there was. Why did E.M. disappear eleven years ago? Why had everything she had ever written been erased from the internet a few hours after the last, fateful post, when that should have been impossible? Why…

 

Why had she betrayed Cat’s faith?

 

Cat tried to yank herself out of her reminiscence but it was impossible. She still had two minutes left and that time stretched on ahead of her, the seconds unmoving, and there was nothing else to do but think back to her mistake. Because it had been a mistake, allowing herself to become so… invested in the writer. Cat had let herself feel, looking to her for hope, turning to her because no matter what was going on in her own life, Cat had felt that she could always be sure of _her_ , of this.

 

Other people had come and gone during those years. Lois, once Cat’s best friend, was quick to abandon her after she had been fired. Cat had asked her to come to National City and the sting from Lois’s scornful laugh had been calmed only by the timely posting of a new article, reminding Cat  _why_ she had chosen this path. There had been her first husband in there as well, the man who tried to blame his cheating on her because she worked too much. Never mind that she had constantly rearranged her schedule to accommodate him but not once had he ever offered to do the same for her. She had been flooded with sympathizers after the breakup, of course, but no one who really meant it. No one who Cat truly believed when they said that they cared about her.

 

But E.M. would.

 

It didn’t even matter that it was a one way communication, that Cat had no way of reaching back. Just sitting there, reading those words, it was enough. Cat had come to depend on that, seeing how much care E.M. took to capture every element of the people in her stories. How no matter what they had done, they were still afforded respect and belief. If the reporting was biased at all, it was only in that it assumed that everyone had the capacity to be better, and although Cat didn’t have a face to associate with the words, she always saw her in a smile.

 

So Cat had known that E.M. would always be there as a guiding hand. That when Cat was questioning, she could read those stories and remember that people were flawed, but also good. That no matter what doubts or struggles Cat herself had, there was someone out there who would accept her without question.

 

Cat had trusted in her unflinchingly when she had never trusted in anyone to that extent before. When even now that level of trust was only given to her son, to Carter.

 

And then, eleven years ago, that trust had been shattered and Cat would never, _never_ , forgive her for that.

 

 _I wish I could be sorry_.

 

Six words, that was all it had taken. Six words where the writer that Cat had looked to to be her moral compass threw it all away. People weren’t perfect, and for the most part E.M. had taught Cat how to reconcile herself with that, but the writer was professing to doing something that she should be sorry for and yet couldn’t be. If it had been simply, ‘I’m sorry,’ or if there had been a request for forgiveness—that would have been different. Those alternatives would have meant that the writer still kept to her own standards, even if she couldn’t live up to them.

 

But ‘I wish’? It was the rejection of everything that had come before—an admittance that something about her core being had been corrupted.  

 

It was hypocritical of her, Cat knew as much, but in the end it didn’t matter that Cat had looked to E.M. to accept all of her flaws when Cat couldn’t accept E.M.’s flaws in turn. It couldn’t matter, because Cat had put her faith in this person and elevated her to the status of hero. Cat had based so much of her own ethical standards around the writer that E.M. had become something more than human.

 

And she had fallen.

 

That was when Cat had learned her lesson, not to let her emotions dictate her actions. For the next decade Cat had held to that, putting aside her own writing to focus on business. She had achieved her international dream while still maintaining her reputation as possessing the highest in journalistic standards, but she had never again let herself be swayed by an emotional appeal. Until four months ago when it had all come rushing back.

 

It was something Cat did every year, not that anyone knew about it, scanning through college newspapers for articles written by students graduating from master’s programs in journalism. Most of the time she didn’t find anything worthwhile. Oh sure, there were promising students but rarely did she find someone who had that extra spark, whose words made Cat pause in contemplation. On occasion, however, she would find someone who stood out, and in those instances she had done some behind-the-scenes work to make sure that they found a job at one of her smaller branches. It was why she could be confident that CatCo was fostering the best talent—that the brightest minds of the next generation would be working for her.

 

It was what she had been doing when she had come across that article by Kara Danvers and the old wound that she had thought long since calloused over had opened up again. Cat had spent the next few days tracking down everything the girl had ever written and by the end of it she had been sure. The style of the writing was one she would recognize anywhere, and although this girl’s work was much more polished by years of schooling in formalized journalistic writing, Cat could still see that unmistakable cadence underneath.

 

There was no question that one Kara Danvers had been mentored by the ghost that Cat had for so long kept at bay—and more recently, too. Kara would have been just a young child when E.M. had disappeared from the internet, and there was no way her writing could have contained this much similarity without years of contact as she aged into adulthood.

 

 _“I’m just going to follow the facts, find out what happened.”_ It was what Cat had told herself, refusing to admit that she wanted answers for any reason other than the story it might yield. Refusing, even, to admit that the story might be unworthy of all the effort she was putting into it in the first place.

 

She had continued to tell that to herself as she arranged for Kara to receive messages about opportunities at CatCo, as she had employees pass her up the line after each interview. And as, one week ago, she had hired her current assistant—making sure that the woman was middle-aged just so that she could make a crack about millennials when Kara walked through her doors.

 

Which would be happening in exactly three minutes because it was now 10:12.

 

Everything was planned out perfectly, the sobbing assistant, the ‘my 10:15,’ meant to put the girl in her place and lay claim all at the same time, even the dismissive way Cat would spin her chair around as she asked Kara what made her so special. It would set the tone and Kara would spend the next few days doing everything she could to impress Cat, until eventually she blurted out her secrets about whoever had mentored her. Cat had considered just asking, but that was too risky. E.M. had disappeared for a reason and any direct questions would most likely put the girl on guard.

 

But this approach would work. It had to.

 

The next three minutes passed flawlessly, everything going just according to plan until the moment Cat finally looked up. Until her gaze fell on that overly bright smile, on blue eyes that held more depth than they should for someone that age, and until the ‘I’m not… special,’ brought everything crumbling down.

 

Cat had been relying on Kara’s belief that she _was_ special, that she was something to be cooed over and triumphed. She had been relying on Kara to falter after her first remarks, to shift uncomfortably under Cat’s assertion that she hadn’t yet earned her place. She had been relying on Kara to be just like every other millennial that had ever passed through her doors.

 

But Cat had not been ready for this. For a look that expressed no fear or judgment, for words that were average at best, and yet so unpredictable. Cat had not been expecting to feel the same sort of… displacement, she had felt all those years ago when she had read that first piece.

 

Cat had not been ready to look at this girl and know with complete certainty that she was doomed. That whatever she had managed to convince herself leading up to this interview, it had been a lie because there _were_ emotions driving her. Emotions creeping in because whatever she had been expecting had been shattered with just three words. Because looking at her now, for all the answers Cat wanted that this girl already had, for all the ways that this girl reminded Cat of _that_ person, Cat knew. She knew that from the very depths of her being, with everything she had, that she _hated_ Kara Danvers.

 

But she was still going to hire her anyway.


	3. Chapter Three

“She hates me Alex, I know she does,” Kara sighed dramatically as she flopped down onto the sofa next to her sister, reaching out automatically to tangle their hands together. Alex allowed the movement easily, opening her fingers in anticipation of Kara’s grasp, closing them again once Kara’s hand was securely in her own. After so many years together such an exchange was familiar and Kara doubted that Alex had even registered the action as a conscious thought, despite the fact that she would have bristled if it had come from anyone else.

 

It brought a warmth to her chest, the ease with which Alex reacted to her. The knowledge that this person, this living, breathing, _solid_ person, had not only let Kara into her life, but had also adapted around her—for her. Kara craved touch at the best of times, but her casual interactions with strangers or even friends could never compare to something like this, something where she knew that her company wasn’t interchangeable. For all the times she had watched her mother and Aunt Astra back on Krypton and had wanted a sibling of her own, even in those last years where the two of them had been at odds, she could never have predicted the true power such a relationship could hold.

 

“Oh please,” Alex rolled her eyes, bumping her shoulder teasingly against her sister, causing the cheap fabric of Kara’s shirt to shift and scrape against her skin. “No one hates you, Kara, that’s a universal impossibility. Trust me, I would know.”

 

“Really Alex?” Kara chased the sensation, allowing her body to sway with the motion so that Alex continued to move into her rather than just bouncing back. “I thought you were past playing on my naivety. I figured out long ago that you were lying about having a built in ‘Kara meter.’”

 

“It took you a year and a half though,” Alex grinned at her proudly, the fond look helping to ease the feeling of loss as she pulled away. Kara still couldn’t quite believe that she had accepted that lie for so long, thinking it was possible for Alex to have a power that let her know if anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way. She shouldn’t have, considering what had come before, but the reality of Earth had been so much… just _more_ , and she hadn’t been prepared. Even with everything that…

 

 _“No!”_ She concentrated on the feel of Alex’s hand against her own, the solidity of the bones, the unexplained callouses, and above all the heat radiating with so much life. So much presence.

 

She was not going to think about that other time, the twenty-three years she could remember and the last one she could not. She had gotten so good at it over the past eleven years. So good at blocking it out, at playing her game, but recently the memories had been resurfacing with greater frequency. She knew why, of course, just as she also knew that this too was all her fault. But she also knew that at least this time it was something she could fix. She had slipped up during the interview, using her powers like that, but as long as she kept them locked away as much as possible from now on things would be better and the memories would fade back into the mist.

 

There were times she couldn’t help it, she did have to use her laser vision about once a year to shave and cut her hair (she had several reinforced mirrors just for that purpose), but she always mentally prepared herself for those events which kept the repercussions to a minimum. Not like this time. This time had been a surprise, even to her.

 

“But I wasn’t talking about that,” Kara willed herself to relax, thankful that Alex hadn’t noticed the slight tightening of her grip if the continued banter was to be believed. “I was referring to the fact that you and your damn morning personality have ruined sleeping in for me. Do you know I _still_ wake up with the sun everyday even though we’re no longer living together? Do you have any idea how utterly appalling that is? So if it were possible for someone to hate you, I would have that covered. And besides,” Alex had turned away while she was speaking, leaning forward towards the coffee table and rummaging around with her free hand for the remote, but now she looked back and gave Kara a knowing smirk, “you smile every time you talk about her so excuse me if I don’t believe your claims of being the long-suffering assistant.”

 

“I do not! And I so am!” But even as she spoke Kara was struggling to keep the traitorous expression off of her face, a struggle she was failing at miserably.

 

Alex shook her head, chuckling lightly under her breath before going back to her task. A few seconds later she let out a triumphant shout as she pushed aside some magazines to reveal the remote. One of the magazines landed at Kara’s feet and she caught sight of the CatCo logo in the corner. Ducking her head, just in case Alex looked over at her again (she refused to let her sister catch her out quite _that_ easily), Kara gave up her attempt to suppress her smile. She had been working at CatCo for just over a month now, and it had been…

 

She hadn’t been lying, Cat _did_ hate her, but that hate was mixed in with a whole mess of other emotions that Kara didn’t understand yet. And that was exactly the point.

 

///////////////////////

 

_Just Over One Month Ago_

 

Kara sank down into the chair, _her_ chair now, she supposed, glad she had made it to the seat before the shaking in her legs became too obvious. She shouldn’t have done that, used her x-ray vision to impress the woman, but it was too late to change that now and truthfully she wasn’t sure she would even if she could. Even knowing what it would mean for her over the next few weeks—the memories she would have to fight back as punishment for breaking from her game. Because it was a game, her entire life here on Earth, a game where she played at being human.

 

She loved games. Growing up on Krypton, a world on the brink of destruction, a world where children were hatched and coded, games had been a thing of the past. They existed in history books or as an oddity that she would hear about on her trips off-world, but they had never been something to engage in let alone actually enjoy. It hadn’t been until the signal from Earth had cut through her screams that she had really learned about them for the first time. So to Kara, games were distinctly human and she had long ago realized the possibilities, creating a new game of her very own after she had landed.

 

She knew Alex felt bad about it sometimes, her family’s insistence that Kara refrain from using her powers. As much as Alex wanted Kara to stay hidden and protected she also wanted Kara to be free, to be true. There were times when Alex would look at her and Kara would know that Alex was struggling to find the words. But she never did and of that Kara was very, very glad, because it wasn’t for them that she was holding herself in. It was for herself.

 

It was because if she was concentrating on being human then she couldn’t be that other thing, that lost creature. And games were fun, or they were supposed to be. That was part of the distraction.

 

So Kara had had no plans of using her powers during the interview no matter how great an opportunity the job might be. No matter how much she admired Cat Grant, or how many times she had listened to that voice in the darkness. But then Cat had looked at her and her body had acted on its own.

 

Cat’s gaze had been… piercing? No, that wasn’t quite right. To say that it was intense would be an understatement. Kara knew intense, knew determined, but this? She still wasn’t entirely sure what it had been, Cat’s mask too composed to give much away. But whatever it was, it had been _driven_. And it had been directed one hundred percent at her.

 

And Kara needed that, more than anything else in her life. She needed people to look at her, to touch her. Not to make her real, personal reality was overrated, but to show her that _they_ were real, and that she was not alone.

 

She got it to a large degree from Alex, but Alex couldn’t be there all the time and six months ago she had started a new job at a lab that was keeping her busy. Kara had tried to visit her but Alex always had some excuse as to why now wouldn’t work and whenever Kara started to press her about it she would look uncomfortable and change the subject. It meant that recently they hadn’t seen each other as often as she had grown accustomed to, which was already less than they had when they had been living under the same roof. Kara didn’t blame her sister for that, she was glad that Alex seemed happy, seemed stronger and more confident—if exhausted—then she had in a long time, but there was no doubt that the loss was having an effect on her.

 

And so Kara had broken from her game for just a moment, used her powers when normally the payoff, whatever it might be, wouldn’t have been worth it. But this time it was, she could feel it. Maybe she would have gotten the job anyway, but she had needed to be sure.

 

Even so, these next few weeks would be…

 

Her fingers twitched at her side, wanting to reach for her phone to contact Alex. She chanced a glance in Cat’s direction to see if she could get away with pulling out a personal device so soon after being hired, and what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

 

Cat was staring at her through the glass walls of her office, or glaring more like. There were some things that Kara would never be able to tamper down even if they weren’t specifically active powers, and her superb vision was one of them. It meant that even from where she was sitting she could see every detail of Cat’s body language—the tension in her jaw from her clenched teeth, the ridged, almost combative, no… defensive maybe(?), posture in her shoulders. And most of all that glint in her eyes, unguarded now as it hadn’t been when Kara had been standing in front of her.

 

It lasted only a few seconds before the mask slipping back into place, something that happened as soon as their eyes met and Cat realized she had been caught. But it was too late, because Kara had _seen_.

 

_“Hatred…”_

 

That wasn’t all there was, if it had been she was sure that Cat never would have hired her, but the other things were too mixed up in that primary emotion for even someone like Kara, someone adept at reading anything and everything about those around her, to decipher. She had no idea what she could have done in so short a time to inspire this, but whatever it was, she knew that she had to keep doing it.

 

Because no one had ever looked at her like that before. Others, Alex, Eliza, they might hold a similar ferocity, but it was an entirely different emotion. This was new, distinctive, and she wanted it.

 

Despite being caught staring Cat continued to watch her, clearly not willing to be the one to back down first and look away. It was no longer a glare but her gaze was still sharp, still… intent on Kara. She found herself leaning forward, trying to follow after that emotion even as it was locked away, and in response she saw just a flicker of it break though once more.

 

 _“Oh,”_ there was a miniscule furrowing of Cat’s brow and where just moments ago Kara’s fingers had been itching to reach out to Alex, now she felt herself pulled in another direction. She wanted to trace the contours of that face, let her fingertips play across the crease and physically _feel_ the effect she was having on that woman.

 

She should probably look away, let Cat win this round, but just as her body had acted without permission during the interview now it seemed determined to keep her in place.

 

“Kiera!” There was a barely perceptible crack in Cat’s voice. She must have realized that Kara wasn’t going to give in and so she was sidestepping the issue by taking command in a different fashion. Just because it would resettle things in Cat’s favor, however, didn’t mean that she would be happy about being forced to resort to such methods.

 

Kara was out of her chair and in front of that desk again in seconds, before her mind had even registered the wrong name. It was supposed to be an insult but she knew that there was no way Cat didn’t know her real name, no way anyone could look at her like that and not remember. So instead the name was another thing, another token of Cat’s attention.

 

“Yes, Miss Grant?” Her voice was breathy, eager, and the knuckles of Cat’s tight fist turned white before she snatched her hand back, hiding it under the desk.

 

“Latte from Noonan’s. Chop chop.” That was it, no direction as to where Noonan’s was, how to pay for the drink, or anything about Cat’s preferences, but Kara felt the bounce in her step as she turned to leave.

 

Cat was expecting her to flounder now, to deflate and ask for help. Cat was trying to make her fit into a nice little box that all the other millennials she had ever encountered had belonged to. But Kara wasn’t going to let her. This was just the first test, getting the coffee, and Kara knew more would be coming, but she was going to pass them all.

 

And she was going to have _fun_.

 

Games are only fun if they are a challenge, if they make you work for them. Otherwise they’re just a series of steps. Kara needed her world to continue being a game if she was going to survive, but over time just not using her powers had become so commonplace that the distinction had started to fade.

 

Cat wasn’t going to let it though; Kara could see that already.

 

Kara could use her speed to locate the place, her laser vision to keep the temperature perfect… but no. If she stopped at the accounting department on the way down and then made friends with whichever barista typically made Cat’s order, then she would have everything she needed. She could even get extra insulation to be tossed in secret before she came into view of Cat’s office again, just to make sure that the drink was at peak temperature.

 

It was going to get so much harder the longer she stayed, the more she pushed back, but Cat Grant was going to make her concentrate on being human in a way she hadn’t had to in years. And each time she did, defying the odds in a completely human way, Cat would look at her like that, would see the game—even if Cat didn’t realize it was a game—and give her something more. And maybe, if Kara was particularly good, maybe Cat’s own control would slip and Kara would be granted another glimpse of those emotions beneath the mask.

 

Kara drew even with her desk, pausing to scoop up her purse and with one last glance back she suddenly realized that her earlier query about the chair had been wrong. The chair wasn’t hers. Sure, Cat had hired her, told her she would be working there for a time, but did that really make this her chair? Her desk? No. It was an easy deduction to make.

 

_“It’s not mine, it’s Cat’s.”_

 

The thought should have been terrifying, reminding her of how temporary this could all be, but instead Kara felt an excited shiver run through her body. Everything in this place belonged to Cat, it had been built by her power and, until Kara, it had all moved precisely according to her will. It had been foolish of Kara to ever think otherwise.  

 

As she turned towards the elevators she felt her anticipation grow—she couldn’t wait to get back to that seat. She knew that when she sat in it next she would associate the cold feel of the metal armrests against her skin, the give of the cloth along her back, as an extension of the other woman. And if Cat’s look was already so… consuming, what more would even a displaced touch bring?

 

//////////////////

 

_Present_

 

Kara pulled herself away from the magazine, concentrating on Alex as she absently flipped through the menu on the TV.

 

She _had_ reached out to Alex that night but had stopped short of telling her about the slip, focusing instead on the fact that she had gotten the job. Alex had been so happy for her, asking for details over the dinner she had taken Kara to to celebrate, and while Kara had never outright lied she had dodged certain questions. It was something she did all the time, a skill she had perfected years ago.

 

It caused a tight knot of guilt to settle in Kara’s stomach every time she thought about that, the deception she had been perpetrating ever since she had landed. She hadn’t told them, not anyone, about the details of her past. It had just seemed easier that way. Could anyone really be expected to distinguish between the trauma of a thirteen-year-old who had just watched her world die, and that of someone older who had had years to feel that loss twisted with so much else? She didn’t think so.

 

So it had been easy to pass off the difference. In the few seconds before she had been pulled from the pod, before the neural connection had been severed, she had even discovered that there was nothing left to give her away. Everything had been purged, her history in that place as well as all traces of her activity on the internet. No human would ever be able to discover her secret unless she told them.  

 

And besides, in some senses she had still been a child. She may have grown up in the pod but physically she was still thirteen and emotionally? Maybe she was more than she appeared but she was by no means capable of being a normal adult and she had needed her Earth childhood to learn how to not be broken.

 

How not to be like… _him_.

 

He was her last memory in the Phantom Zone. She had the other memories, flashes of an endless nothing, of screaming. Years of watching and listening. Of writing and hoping in desperation that it mattered. That even if she was helpless, drifting in the void, that her voice perhaps could touch someone the way she physically could not.

 

There was a special kind of pain to that, to feeling so close and yet constantly forced to recognize the distance. It was during those years that she had started playing games, not the one at being human, that had only come later, but other games; number games, word games, anything that would let her forget the truth for short periods. But as the years had passed it hadn’t been enough. Still, she had held on, clinging to humanity to save her.

 

Until the day Superman had become a hero and she had learned that El Mayarah was a lie. He hadn’t been named yet, she had only learned that title later, but she had known who the man with extraordinary powers had to be.

 

When she had started writing Kara had called herself E.M., Stronger Together. It was a reminder of everything she had come from and of everything that existed out there. She had reached for the humans and embraced them with those words, _needing_ them to be true. She had also looked for her cousin but his pod had been shut down by the time she had learned enough control through the neural link to search for it, and she hadn’t been able to find him. She had hoped, prayed to a lost god that he was safe and cared for, because the knowledge of what she had done… that her own actions were responsible for all of this? It was better to focus on something else. She was good at that, after all, so very good at living in the abstract.

 

But the day he had surfaced, the crest of the House of El emblazoned on his chest, Kara had felt whatever had been left of herself begin to unravel.

 

Because he hadn’t needed her.

 

She was supposed to have been there for him but she had left him alone and he was fine. She had always wanted him to be safe, of course, but for him to do this? He was perfectly strong on his own.

 

Kara didn’t know what had happened in that last year, how she had escaped. She didn’t know what had happened to that other ship, to that voice…

 

Yet another thing she refused to think about, shoving those memories down with the others she tried so hard to leave behind. But whatever had occurred, somehow she had made it to Earth, awakening to find that a year had passed since the man standing in front of her then had first taken to the sky.

 

It was probably the only reason her mind arrived intact. She was sure that if she did have her memories she would not have come back. Seeing reports of Superman just the once had done something to her, but she had still been… something. A person, not a monster. That last year, though, it was a year she had spent trapped in that place, watching him soar. And what had that done to her? She didn’t want to know.

 

When Clark, (she preferred to think of him that way, no longer Kal-El), had handed her off she had been happy to be away from him and everything he meant. When she had been told not to use her powers but to blend in she had felt even better still, and over time she had slowly started to heal.

 

Alex had been a large part of that and she was also the one exception to Kara’s resolve to hide from reality. Alex may not know the truth about those years and Kara didn’t want to tell her, both to continue to hide from it and because she knew how much it would hurt Alex, but Alex had more of the pieces than anyone else. Alex was the only one Kara would ever talk to about the Phantom Zone. Not in detail, but enough to suggest that it hadn’t just passed in an instant. She had given the impression that she had been dreaming, or existing in a haze. Not awake, not really, but aware that she was alone and trapped.

 

“Kara?” The voice made her blink, pulling her out of her thoughts to focus on Alex and she inwardly cursed herself for allowing yet another lapse. It had been a month since she had used her powers and these cracks would be fading soon, but for now they remained, reminding her why she needed to be more careful. No more unnecessary powers. She couldn’t face the past, even as she also couldn’t face making Alex worry.

 

“You ok?” The voice was soft, concerned in a way Alex only ever was with her, and Kara mentally shook herself, letting the smile that had dropped from her face slip back into place.

 

“Of course,” it sounded weak even to her, but she took a breath and tried again, forcing a mocking tone into her voice. “I’m just disappointed to see that you forgot to hide your reality shows this time, I thought you were better than that.”

 

“What? I don’t watch that stuff.” But Alex’s voice was tellingly high and the way she whipped her head around to scrutinize the list of saved shows on the DVR told a different story. It was clean, of course, and Alex’s face morphed into a scowl of feigned annoyance.  

 

“You brat,” the words were accompanied by a pillow crashing into her and Kara let out a completely undignified shriek as she attempted to dive for cover.

 

“Oh no you don’t!” Alex pounced, wrapping her in a hug to hold her close. It was a grip that Kara could have easily broken if she wasn’t playing her game, but as it was she could only flail helplessly as the pillow descended again.

 

“I’m sorry! You win!”

 

“Hmmm? I didn’t hear you?” Another smack.

 

“You would never watch the Kardashians. You know nothing about them! Or about Kanye! You’re an impressive, brilliant woman who has better things to do with her time!”

 

“Good, and don’t you forget it!” The laughter remained but Alex didn’t move away as their breathing began to slow, her hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair out of Kara’s face.

 

“I win, I’ve got you,” it was much softer than her previous claim of victory, and Kara closed her eyes, turning her head into the touch.

 

“I know.”

 

Opening her eyes again, Kara knew that this time her smile was real, even as she also knew that Alex would hold her all the tighter tonight. They wouldn’t talk about it, but they didn’t have to. Alex may not fully understand, but they were sisters and that was enough for her to know that Kara needed her.

 

It was enough for her to keep Kara safe even when all else—her games, her mental blocks—when all of that failed and Kara found herself facing the darkness.

 

/////////////////

 

_Thirty Years Ago_

 

 _“Hello? Someone…?”_ The words breached through to Indigo’s mind, pulling her back to consciousness once more. It wasn’t screaming this time and of that she was immensely grateful, but she still felt a twitch of annoyance at the disruption.

 

_“I- I know you helped me, that you opened the connection to Earth…”_

 

Indigo groaned inwardly. She should have known better, should have foreseen this eventuality. With the changes she had made to the pod’s programing it was only a matter of time before the girl would learn some level of control over the link. It was a short step from there to discovering that her ship had been tampered with.

 

_“I know you’re there…”_

 

It would have been better if she had just destroyed the pod… when? Three years ago now, a quick check of Fort Rozz’s systems gave that away. Only three years? It was a long time for some but relatively short when you took into account that this girl hadn’t just learned basic control, that she had also pinpointed her and created a strong enough transmission to break through on purpose. It was different from the screaming, this was targeted, almost… elegant, and Indigo couldn’t help but be a tiny bit impressed.

 

_“Please…?”_

 

Ignoring this voice would be so much easier than ignoring those screams. She could build a wall that would keep this girl out for a time, but why bother? The child would get through eventually, and it wasn’t often someone managed to impress her. She also supposed that she _did_ feel some small degree of responsibility. She was the one who had interfered first, after all.

 

 _“I’m here, you can stop your shouting.”_ It was hardly fair to call the plaintive voice a shout but she hoped that her words would convey some level of irritation and establish their respective dynamic. She wasn’t expecting the mental equivalent of a strangled sob that vibrated down the line in response to her voice.

 

 _“You’re real… I knew it! I…”_ the voice faded again, just for a moment, and then came back. _“You are real,_ _aren’t you?”_

 

 _“Would you know if I wasn’t?”_ Indigo grimaced internally at the softening in her tone.  

 

_“I… no…?”_

 

 _“Are you asking me or are you telling me?”_ The words were meant to reassert her authority, to regain whatever ground she had lost at her previous response, but instead they caused a soft giggle, a sound in stark contrast to the desperate sob of a moment before. It was a clear indicator of the emotional instability that the child—because she was still a child, if only just—was going through.

 

It was quiet for a time after that. Indigo doubted that the girl really knew how to have a conversation anymore, and she was just thinking that maybe she could go back to sleep when the voice spoke again.

 

_“Do you want to play a game?”_


	4. Chapter Four

Cat Grant liked plans. She liked spreadsheets and numbers and _order_. She liked the shuddering thrill that came when the world rearranged itself around her ambitions and the power that surged through her veins each and every time an adversary fell before her will. She liked knowing that she was responsible for her own fate, and most of all, she liked that she could trace the pattern of her life, that she could see how each careful decision contributed to a larger, methodical whole.

 

But with Kara… well, Cat could think of plenty of instances where finding a young, blonde woman in her apartment in the middle of the night—one that was absolutely dripping wet no less—would have been exactly an outcome that she had intended. At a moment’s notice she was even reasonably sure that she could come up with at least three different scenarios that would lead to a similar result. But in no universe was there ever a version of her that would want this, want Kara Danvers to be the person standing before her now. Want Kara with that eager, twinkling grin that always made Cat feel a bit like she was the canary being hunted instead of the other way around.

 

Her plans always fell apart when it came to Kara, and it was time for that particular pattern to come to an end.

 

“Why are you here, Kiera?” Short, concise, threatening. It was the kind of statement that should have transformed the girl into a nervous mess. Cat even made sure to put special emphasis on the name, sneering it in a way that had caused many a previous assistant to outright flee in terror.

 

But not Kara, never Kara.

 

Instead of reacting the way any sane human would when encountering a clearly incensed Cat Grant, Kara took her time. Her smile turning lazy and relaxed as her eyes made their way slowly down Cat’s body, and it was Cat who had to fight the urge to run as Kara took in the cat pajamas Carter had gotten for her last Christmas, complete with their little kitten buttons and matching fuzzy socks. It was a far cry from her usual array of designer clothes and towering heels, but Carter had left this afternoon to stay with his father until she returned from her upcoming trip and Cat was already feeling his absence. Plus, the pajamas were comfortable and warm and much more practical than some of the other things she had available to wear to bed—not that she would have wanted Kara to see her in any of those, either.

 

The silence stretched on as Kara took her in and Cat felt her scowl deepen as she waited. She wanted to snap another demand but she had already asked once and she was not about to lower herself by asking a second time. She held her ground and a few seconds later Kara relented, looking back up to meet her gaze.

 

“You said you wanted the presentation for your trip as soon as I was finished with it, and well, I’m finished!” Anticipation shone on Kara’s face as she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a flash drive. On anyone else it was an expression that Cat would have read as a desire for praise, for whatever crumb of affirmation of a job well done she was willing to give, but on Kara it was broader than that. She wanted something yes, but it was a something that settled uncomfortably around Cat’s shoulders, a responsibility she did not intend to be around long enough to undertake.

 

She had to get rid of Kara and quickly.

 

Crossing her arms, Cat attempted to gather what she could of her authority, refusing to reach out for the offered drive. “I meant on Monday during work hours. Not at 4am on a Saturday morning.” Her voice was low, controlled, and as she spoke she nodded her head to indicate the still open door at Kara’s back and the elevator that would take her back out into the storm. Cat was at distinct disadvantage in this situation and she knew it. The best thing to do now would be to send Kara on her way and deal with this later when she had had more than a few hours of sleep and was in the proper disposition.

 

Kara cocked her head to the side, a perfect replica of a contemplative puppy, and Cat felt her fingers itch with the desire to do something, anything, to wipe that look off her face. The movement also had a second, even more unwelcome consequence, shaking some of the water in Kara’s hair free and sending it trickling down her exposed neck. Not that Cat was looking, or that she cared.

 

Her eyes were absolutely not tracking the progress of that water or pausing to take in the way Kara’s soaked cardigan was clinging to her body in all the right places. And even if, just if, she _did_ happen to notice, it was only because there was no denying that to some people Kara would be considered attractive. Not to her, of course, but Cat could acknowledge that other people might think so.  

 

She even supposed that some of those same people might consider Kara attractive for other reasons as well. For the apparent interest and wonder with everything around her, the laughter and bright eyes that spoke of an intelligence that Cat had seen rise to the occasion over and over again over the past four months. Even the challenge that seemed to lurk just beneath the surface, promising that, while perhaps not always easy, Kara would forever be interesting. Be engaging, and stimulating, and… Kara started to say something again, drawing Cat back to the present.

 

“Wouldn’t you rather have it now though, Miss Grant? You’re leaving on Tuesday, I thought you would prefer to have the weekend to look it over rather than just one day,” and there it was, that flash in Kara’s eyes that told Cat that the girl had known exactly what she was doing when she had chosen to misinterpret Cat’s order and come here tonight.

_“She’s playing with me,”_ it wasn’t the first time Cat had had that thought, but it was the first time that she truly believed it.

 

With another employee Cat might have allowed for the possibility that she was intimidating enough to make them work these late hours—she had certainly done her fair share of all-nighters on her rise to fame—but to show up at her apartment without an express invitation rather than just emailing in the work? That was… it was…

 

It was something else. Something that was uniquely _Kara_.

 

And it was why Kara was here now, dripping water all over her entranceway all because Cat hadn’t been specific enough in her wording and had left an opening for the girl to exploit. And that was what it was, an exploitation. It was because Cat couldn’t fire someone for being too good at their job, and to an outsider that was what this would look like; Kara’s appearance here as just a small misunderstanding from a dutiful assistant.

 

But Cat knew better. Over the past four months Kara had conquered every test Cat had given her with a smile on her face. She should have been gone after a week, a month at most. That was the longest it had ever taken Cat to break someone with her exacting standards. Kara should have given in and spilled her secrets, but instead she had embraced those standards, thrived on them. Instead she was treating all of this like it was just a game, like nothing could hurt her because none of it was real—as if all she wanted, the only thing she truly cared about, was continuing to play regardless of the real life consequences.

 

Taking her silence as wavering Kara took a step forward, ignoring the door at her back and hovering just outside the purview of Cat’s personal space. “Shall I just leave it on the table then, Miss Grant?”

 

It was a calculated move. If Cat accepted it meant she would either have to retreat to let the girl past, or hold her ground and allow Kara to step fully into her space. Either option would be a failure on her part, as would giving in and taking the drive herself, so best to reject them all.

 

“No, Kiera. You will not just leave it on the table. I don’t pay you enough to replace it when you drip water all over the wood.” She wished the girl wasn’t quite so tall or standing so close, forcing her to look up to meet her eyes without the aid of her heels. “Maybe I’ll have you stand in the hallway until you’re dry, it should only take what? A few hours?”

 

It was an overcorrection and she knew it as soon as the words left her mouth, backing her further into a corner because Kara would be perfectly willing to wait as suggested, meaning that it was up to Cat to dig herself out. And she had to, that wasn’t even a question.

 

Cat had never been outwardly cruel with her demands. She hated the girl, yes, but there was a difference between being mean, pushing employees to be their best, and abusing them just because she could. Maybe she hadn’t always been nice to many of them, especially Kara’s predecessor, but even when flinging cutting remarks and making people cry she was careful to never cross the line from professional insults into personal ones. Professional insults could offer guidance, if delivered correctly, and they were often deserved. But she had never given Kara or anyone else under her leadership a task that she wouldn’t have been able to complete herself, assuming she had the appropriate training in the related field.

 

She was especially careful with that line when it came to Kara because Kara never seemed to be more animated than when Cat was on the verge of slipping over the edge.

 

It had started off small, that first time Kara had leaned in when Cat had been caught glaring, but from there it had only grown. The next time she had come close to dropping her mask had been three weeks later when she had asked Kara to pick up some proofs from the art department and had discovered that not only had that already been done, but that Kara had made her own edits and sent them back for corrections. It would have been acceptable if what Cat had received next had still required her touch, but somehow Kara had already learned precisely what Cat would have wanted and there was nothing left for her to do. She had made a change anyway, in defiance of the girl, but it was done in anger and the end result was inferior. And all the while, as she had been staring down at the proofs, Kara had inched closer, nearly bouncing with excess energy and face gleaming when a single, frustrated growl had slipped past Cat’s lips.

 

More things like that kept happening, a meeting scheduled before Cat could request it, a day rearranged in anticipation of breaking news. They were insights that rivaled Cat’s own familiarity with the media, and in a world where she had grown up constantly hearing that she wasn’t good enough, suddenly the fact that this young _assistant_ could keep up with her… it was too much. It played on her own insecurities and drew her closer to that edge at every turn. The only thing that had saved her, saved Kara, was that each time she would see that same flicker of hunger on Kara’s face and she would reel herself back in.

 

It was part of the challenge, a brazenness almost, that in a different situation and one someone else Cat might even find appealing. But when directed in this way? It was something that worried Cat, even in the midst of her larger goal.

 

From somewhere that wasn’t completely hidden in her driving emotion, it worried her that a young, strong, smart woman like Kara could enjoy being hated. No matter how much Cat might _not_ care about her, she would not be responsible for fostering the idea that it was remotely acceptable for Kara to want more of this, more of her. Cat would not be responsible for contributing to Kara’s apparent view that the intensity of the attention she received was more important than the nature of it. And so she watched that line with sharp focus, treading close—it was hard not to when Kara was concerned—but never crossing over.

 

“I would guess about three hours, Miss Grant. Would you mind if I waited in the lobby instead?” She was still pushing, trying to make Cat throw away her own rules in an effort to reign the girl in.

 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic Kiera.” She punctuated the statement with a well-timed eye roll. “You can’t honestly think I’d actually make you do that.” It was greeted with a look of disappointment, which if anything grated against Cat’s nerves more than even the thinly-veiled insubordination had, and only further confirmed her suspicion.

 

Before tonight she had pondered whether this was all a game, but she had dismissed that thought because she honestly couldn’t believe that Kara didn’t care about the opportunities this job could bring. Every time Kara had pushed back, every time she had smiled in the face of Cat’s barely concealed emotion, Cat had convinced herself that Kara was just pleased to have surpassed expectations. That even if Kara was craving something she shouldn’t, it was just that, a craving. It was just something Kara received on the side as a personal, added bonus.

 

But now Kara was here in the middle of the night and Cat knew that it was so much more. Because Kara wasn’t stopping at just accepting the emotion she drew out simply by doing her job well. No, she was seeking it out, actively and with clear knowledge of what she was doing. Everything the girl had done before this had been in line with what Cat ultimately needed and it had been confined to the boundaries of the office. But those boundaries had fallen. Kara was going out of her way to cultivate Cat’s reaction to her, proving that it was more than a craving, that it was an addiction.

 

So Cat had to be careful because suddenly making sure that she didn’t purposely encourage Kara’s want might no longer be enough. Not that her current plans around the girl spanned that far ahead. That would imply that she did care somewhat. It would imply that she wasn’t planning on firing Kara as soon as she got the information she needed from her, but rather that she wanted to keep her close. That underneath the misguided attention there was a passion there that Cat could recognize, and appreciate.

 

But all of that was irrelevant, because keeping Kara around did not factor into her plans. And right here, right now, Kara was playing a game and Cat was losing because she hadn’t been aware that she was a player. Well no more.

 

She was Cat Grant, and she did not lose. This had nothing to do with correcting Kara’s destructive path, that wasn’t her responsibility, but if dragging Kara back into the real world was what it would take for her to get her answers, then that was what she would do.

 

The only question was how?

 

Gears shifted in her mind as a new plan began to form, and Cat felt the dark rush that always came with each fresh endeavor. The excitement of a new strategy and the elation of the chase. It was her own addiction, she was self-aware enough to admit that, but she wasn’t as young or as bright as Kara and whatever destructive tendencies she had, the time to change had long since passed.

 

She couldn’t just end the game, even if she knew how that would only result in Kara turning away, in the girl moving on to seek her fix somewhere else. So no, Cat would have to embrace the game first before she could end it, taking it over from the inside to make sure that Kara wouldn’t just escape into another one.

 

That realization gave her an idea.

 

“Alright, Kiera, you may be right,” she smiled, a look which actually managed to reach her eyes when Kara’s own expression faltered somewhat in confusion at the sudden shift. “Take off your shoes and follow me. We’ll get you a change of clothes and then you can walk me through the presentation while your things are in the dryer.”

 

“I-” Cat cut her off with a piercing look. Just because she was reinventing some rules didn’t mean that she was going to completely alter herself or the entire game. If Cat wanted to steer Kara in a new direction she had to make sure that the game was still recognizable, otherwise Kara would jump ship rather than going along with the redirect.

 

“Yes, Miss Grant.” Cat let her smile shift into a smirk as she turned her back and started walking away, hearing the quiet shuffle of obedient, following footsteps.

 

This was good, it was probably even better than sending Kara home. If the girl got sick because of those clothes Cat doubted that she would take a day off, spreading germs all over the office. And that was what was important. Not that Kara might be sick herself, or the way the shirt was incredibly distracting clinging to her like that.

 

It only took a few minutes to find something large enough to fit Kara, some old sweatpants and the oversized CatCo t-shirt she broke out occasionally when she was feeling particularly lethargic. Passing them over she was about to show Kara to the spare bedroom, meaning to return to her own room to change herself, but before she could form the words Kara was already moving to shed her clothes. The action betrayed a lack of modesty that Cat wouldn’t have expected, and she caught the briefest glimpse of a toned stomach, muscles just begging to be explored, before she found herself practically fleeing the room in a decidedly unimpressive manner. She just barely remembered to pause long enough to give hurried directions to the laundry room through the closed door before her need to get away and settle her heart completely took over.

 

So fine, she might be just a _little_ attracted to her assistant, but so would anyone else. Cat wasn’t blind, and the knowledge that a beautiful, twenty-something was stripping down to her underwear in her bedroom? Would soon be wearing her clothes? Well that was just… she had been so fixated on how to implement her new approach that maybe she hadn’t thought this through.

 

Cat made her way to the kitchen taking deep breaths to calm herself down, stopping once she arrived at her destination to glare at her fuzzy socks in accusation. If she hadn’t been thinking about changing she never would have lingered long enough to see… and even if she had she wouldn’t have been distracted enough to let it get to her like that. It wasn’t like she needed to change anyway. Actually, it was better not to. Changing would be an admission that she had something to be embarrassed about, which she absolutely did not, and Kara was nowhere near important enough on a personal level for her opinion to matter.

 

Conclusion reached, Cat turned her mind elsewhere, her hand moving towards the coffee machine. As she pulled out the old grounds her eyes fell on the stack of take-out menus she had pulled out for dinner earlier that evening and a new thought crossed her mind. Had Kara eaten recently? She probably had had dinner, but with the amount of food Cat saw the girl tuck away on a regular basis surely she would be hungry again by now. It would be an easy thing to call and have a pizza delivered. Kara wouldn’t be expecting the gesture and it would be a way to reassert herself after what had happened in the bedroom.

 

Cat already had the phone in her hand, the number partially dialed when she stopped. This wouldn’t do. She couldn’t have Kara thinking she was worried about her, after all. She did need to feed her, Kara had come right from the office and Cat knew that her not-so-secret snack drawer was often depleted by the end of the week, but ordering something that Kara would really like? That was a step too far. It was one thing for them to have an unspoken acknowledgement that they paid special attention to each other, quite another for Cat to do something that would blatantly admit to it, especially when the fridge had been stocked with fresh vegetables just yesterday by Cat’s personal shopper. And Kara really could do with a more balanced diet, Cat didn’t want her collapsing from malnutrition before she got what she wanted.

 

A salad and vegetable stir-fry then, handmade by Cat herself so Kara couldn’t refuse. That would show her. Cat nodded, grinning at her own brilliance as she pulled the ingredients from the fridge, getting so caught up in the joke of it all that she didn’t hear Kara come in until a voice spoke beside her.

 

“You’re feeding me?” There was that hesitation, the confusion again, and Cat felt her grin widen.

 

“No Kiera, I’m feeding _me_. You just happen to be benefitting from the fact that I’m hungry.” She refused to raise her head from her task, not trusting herself to look at the girl until she could be sure that Kara was fixated on something else. “This will take a bit longer to prepare. Go make yourself useful and set the table. Forks and knives are in the drawer to your left.” She waited until she heard the drawer clank shut and the soft pad of Kara’s footsteps carrying her over to the dining nook before giving in and allowing herself a glance.

 

It was a good thing she had waited.

 

The shirt that was baggy on her was stretched tightly across broad shoulders, and arms that were normally hidden under cardigans were fully exposed, revealing clearly defined muscles that even the wet clothes from earlier had only hinted at. And the pants, oh the pants. They fit Kara’s body even more snugly than the top and she had rolled them over once at the waist which meant that when she bent over the table, stretching to place silverware on the far side, Cat had an unobstructed view of just how low they were slung across her hips. And they were low. Low and tight and…

 

Cat was fairly certain that whatever expression was frozen on her face—she didn’t think her brain was functioning well enough to adequately place it—it was not anything that she could ever allow Kara to see. Still, it took Kara starting to spin around and nearly catching her to jump start Cat back into action. She just barely managed to turn away before the girl completed her movement, reminding herself once again of how intrusive this all was and of how much she really did _not_ like her assistant. It felt a little like an empty line, but she concentrated on the feeling she knew was there, refusing to let herself get distracted by a pretty face. Or by pretty arms. Or a pretty as—

 

“This looks wonderful, Miss Grant!” Cat frowned as Kara’s words broke through her musings. There was real enthusiasm in that voice, which was… unexpected. Whatever confusion Kara had felt initially must have been shoved aside by the prospect of food. But even if Kara was happy about food, she couldn’t be thrilled about Cat’s choice in dish, right?

 

“I love fresh vegetables but I’m a terrible cook and you never know what they’re going to be like if you order them with take-out so I don’t get to have them very often. Vegetable stir-fry is one of my favorite meals!”

 

No. No no no no no. Cat’s knife descended with perhaps a bit too much force and only the impeccable quality of her appliances saved the cutting board from receiving a scratch.

 

Kara was not supposed to _like_ vegetables. Cat could not be cooking for her assistant in her apartment. Her assistant who she had only just admitted to being attracted to, even if it was from a purely aesthetic standpoint. Cat could not be planning on serving her one of her favorite meals while the two of them were alone together and Kara was wearing her clothes. Cat could not… this was not part of the new and improved plan.

 

But it was too late to back out now, she was just going to have to take additional steps to remedy this situation. It could still be salvaged, she just needed a minute to think without Kara standing there looking so… she refused to contemplate further, but she just needed a minute.

 

“My laptop is in the home office. You should get that flash-drive set up while I finish cooking. We’ll go through the presentation in there after we eat.” She cringed inwardly as she spoke, knowing she had just set herself up for yet another unwanted situation, but it was unavoidable. While it was true that it would have been better to have Kara bring the laptop in here so that they could look at the presentation while they were eating, giving them something to focus on other than each other during the meal, if she allowed that then Kara would be back in a moment and Cat wouldn’t have enough time to breathe let alone find a solution.

 

The knife continued to bare down violently on the vegetables while she thought, but if the ingredients ended up too finely chopped, well that was only because she was being thorough. Besides, there was nothing quite like the feel of a knife in one’s hand, slicing cleanly through an offending… anything, to help one think.

 

And it was working.

 

Her smile crept back into place as it came to her and Cat hurriedly picked up her phone, scrolling to a number she had dialed numerous times over the past few days.

 

“Miss Grant,” the voice that greeted her was heavily accented, but sharp and attentive. “I’m glad you called. I was planning on following up with you in a few hours to assure you everything is in place for your arrival. We are very much looking forward to showing you around the new CatCo headquarters in Atlantis.”

 

“Something I am looking forward to as well, Arthur,” and it was true. Cat had worked tirelessly to secure this deal, becoming the first outside media company to establish representation on the island. It was a feat that even her mother had had to begrudgingly admit was impressive, and now it was going to prove its worth in another way.

 

And the best part was, was that Kara would never see it coming. Atlantis might not be the mythical underwater city it was portrayed to be in the popular children’s series, but it was still an isolated island that had only opened its gates to outsiders recently and was still relatively wary of intrusion. It meant that while normally Kara would be in charge of organizing all of her travel, in this case it had been necessary to allow the Atlanteans to take care of everything.

 

“I need to make a minor adjustment to the trip, if it’s not too late. I would like to add a second person,” the connection began to crackle and she could only hope that Arthur was catching most of what she said. Communication was still iffy at best but that would change once her engineers completed their work on the broadcast station. “My assistant, can that be arranged?”

 

It was exactly what she needed to throw Kara off as the girl had been doing to her for months and take over the game. All CatCo executive staff members and their assistants were required to have current passports just in case last minute travel to one of the international locations was required, and Kara was no exception. The only concern, therefore, was that Cat had never brought an assistant on such a trip before and the decision would stand out as odd to many onlookers. But she hoped that they would just fold it into the general surprise that was any assistant lasting longer than a few weeks and let it pass without further review.

 

Because this was the answer.

 

Kara had been winning because they were in an environment that wasn’t really out of her comfort zone, and even now that Cat was playing it would take some time for her to catch up. But a trip to Atlantis? Cat had been teaching herself the language, as much as she could, but it was complex and there were only a few phrases she could say with confidence. Kara, on the other hand, wouldn’t speak it at all and a few days in the foreign country trying to maintain the standards she had risen to thus far? That was sure to reset the balance like nothing else Cat could put together on such short notice.

 

She was so pleased with herself that missed what Arthur was saying in response and she simply parroted his words back to him without really hearing them—confirming the addition of her ‘plus one’ through the static and thanking him for his adaptability. When she hung up the phone a moment later, still with a minute or two to spare before Kara returned, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

 

Cat was taking Kara to Atlantis, a place of mystery and endless possibility, and it was going to be perfect.


	5. Chapter Five

Kara took a breath, closing her eyes and concentrating on the feeling of the air filling her lungs, on the cold press of the marble countertop under her fingers, the solidity of the ground under her feet. In the background she could hear the low buzz of people moving through the airport and she wondered how many of them were also experiencing the same sort of anxiety. How many of them shared her fear, her very normal, _human_ , fear.

 

“I’m afraid of flying.” She spoke the words softly, eyes still closed. “In an hour I will be on an airplane for the first time in my life, and I am afraid.”

 

It felt good to say it out loud, to put those precise conditions around the event. She had been struggling with it over the past few days, but now she was finally ready.

 

Cat had thrown her unexpectedly with the trip and Kara knew that her response had been less than ideal. There was a thin line she tread at all times: the things she allowed herself, and those she did not. It wasn’t always logical where she drew it—for instance, it was fine for her to make use of the knowledge of journalism she had gleaned from her past, but only because she had spent years learning about it as a human. It was less fine for her to have knowledge of the Atlantean language because that was something she had never studied after her arrival. As a result it was too rooted in that time, and so it was something to avoid.

 

But Kara had been dealing with language issues for years, learning how to ignore the things she overheard accidentally, so that wasn’t the main source of her concern. There was nothing she could do about the fact that she understood Atlantean, but as long as she didn’t go too far and speak it or otherwise give herself away, she would still be safe on her preferred side of the line. Maybe it didn’t make perfect sense, but as long as _she_ understood where things fell, that was all that mattered.

 

The flying though, that was not so easily sorted, and when Cat had given her the news that she would be joining her on the trip, Kara had needed time to process.

 

It had happened right after Kara returned with Cat’s laptop, presentation ready to go once they finished eating. She hadn’t quite known what to expect from the meal, what with Cat’s conduct thus far that night deviating from her usual pattern, but Kara had been looking forward to it. She wanted to see that new side of Cat.

 

Until Cat had announced the change in plans.

 

Kara’s demeanor shifted instantly. She had gone from energized excitement about the food and whatever the strange version of Cat would throw her way, to trying to rush through the visit so she could go home and figure things out. Kara was floundering, and there was no way that Cat hadn’t noticed, but for once Kara had been too wrapped up in herself to think about the other woman.

 

Her behavior was off the following Monday as well, but the two of them had both been so busy—the new plan meant that there was no one in place to serve as the liaison between Cat and CatCo over the trip’s duration, so they had been scrambling to compensate—that they had barely had any time to interact, let alone test each other. And so Monday had passed in a blur as Kara fell back on patterns and practiced motions—on the automated, shallow smiles of her youth that left her mind free to continue churning.

 

She had felt lucky that Alex was stuck at work with some project and hadn’t seen her before she left. They had talked on the phone, but it was much easier to hide her fear that way then in person. While on one hand she wanted Alex to wrap her arms around her—to protect her—on the other she knew that if Alex saw the state she was in, it would lead to questions. Alex would see past her contrived look and until late last night when she had finished sorting things out, Kara wouldn’t have had a safe answer to give.

 

But she had one now. She had drawn her line.

 

Opening her eyes, Kara contemplated her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face was pale and her hands, resting on the marble countertop, gave themselves away with a slight tremor. When was the last time she had had such a visceral reaction to something? Had she ever been like this? On Earth at least? She didn’t think so. Her body didn’t get cold and shudder, or get hurt and go into shock. She might experience a momentary change—Cat’s attention at times drawing forth a shiver—but nothing prolonged. And while fear wasn’t new to her, tying it to something she would allow herself to feel was. It was what her game had been missing, because how could she play at being human without letting herself be weak?

 

Well, she was weak now. And the visual, when coupled with the racing beat of her heart, served as a stark reminder that that was the case. It thrilled her and the smile she saw staring back at her was bright and real in spite of, or rather because of, that realization.

 

“I, _Kara Danvers_ , am afraid of flying.”

 

And that was the trick, wasn’t it? To make this fear part of who Kara Danvers was as a human and to separate that fear, the one that was safe, from the other fear that belonged to Kara Zor-El.

 

Kara Zor-El was afraid because the last time she had been aboard an aircraft of any kind she had ended up lost in a void, and the last time she had flown at all had been when Clark had lifted her up to take her to her new home. From a rational standpoint, Kara knew that neither of those flights were the same thing. There was no way the airplane could get stuck in time and being in the air inside of a metal contraption was vastly different from any superpower, but that didn’t change things. Kara Zor-El was still afraid and that was even before considering what would happen if the plane were to fail.

 

She slid her left foot forward, shifting her weight to feel the tug of gravity against her body and tried not to think about how if something were to happen mid-flight, she might have to fly under her own power. She could avoid it, curl up in a ball as the plane shattered around her, but depending on which leg of the trip they were on, flying might be her only option. The crash itself wouldn’t kill her, but it was what would come next that terrified her more. If they were over the ocean when it happened she would be swallowed up by the water, the lack of air eventually putting her into a second stasis until Clark found her and dragged her out. Not to mention that everyone else would most likely perish. It might only be four people this time—the two pilots, the flight attendant, and Cat—but it would still be everyone she left behind. All over again.

 

She wished she could be sure of herself enough to act for their sakes. She wished… Cat. She wished that Cat’s life would be enough, but it wasn’t. If the plane went down over land without that looming possibility of ending up trapped again, she would let everyone else die just so that she wouldn’t have to fly. She might only survive because of her powers in any event, but invulnerability was passive. Flight? That was not, and using her powers consciously for something so big meant admitting what she was, admitting to her past. And if she did that, if she accepted that those things where a part of her, where would it end? Would her memories return? Whatever madness that last year had wrought? Maybe people would die if she didn’t do anything, but if she did and she lost her grip on who she was now, how long would it be before others suffered in their stead?

 

No. No matter how much she might wish for that fundamental part of herself to be different, the truth was, was that the only thing strong enough to force her into action was her desire to escape the clutches of the void.

 

And for those reasons, Kara Zor-El was afraid.

 

Kara Danvers, however, was afraid for simple reasons that were easy to categorize and that were shared with large numbers of the population. She was afraid because airplanes were exactly what they appeared to be. Because they were breakable, mechanical things. Because she had never been on one before, and because she did not know what to expect. As long as she remembered that, kept reminding herself of that, she would be fine.

 

She would be, because the image staring back at her in the mirror now, it was all human. With her hair pulled back her pierced ears were readily visible—on Krypton piercings had been a sign of status, worn only by the elite, but on Earth they were something for the masses, proving that she was just one amongst many—and together with the glasses perched on her nose there was nothing external to indicate that she was anything but.

 

Kara lifted her hand, instantly missing the grounding of the countertop, but feeling the loss ease as her fingers came into contact with the small gold stud in her left ear. It was part of a pair that Alex had given her when she had graduated high school. They weren’t fancy, the inlaid detail work only visible once you got close, but they had probably been the most expensive thing Alex could afford at the time and Kara loved them. They marked her growth in this world, her connection to someone else who was still alive, and they suited her in a way that meant that Alex understood her, even without knowing everything.

 

One more time.

 

“I’m af-”

 

“Yes, yes. You’re afraid of flying. We get it already. Now move out of the way so someone else can use the sink.” A woman, just a few years older than Kara by the look of her—although the smart pilot’s uniform may have added a year or two with its air of authority—materialized in the mirror behind her, startling Kara with her sudden appearance.

 

Her hand, the one still resting atop the counter, spasmed dangerously and Kara yanked it away before her fingers could accidentally crush stone.

 

“You do realize that there are four other sinks in here, don’t you?” The words sounded strained as they left her lips, the jovial tone she had been going for undermined by the adrenaline coursing through her system as her line blurred once again.

 

 _“No,”_ she reminded herself, clutching her traitorous hand to her chest. _“The adrenaline is good. It’s safe. It’s normal. You are normal. You did not break the counter. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.”_

 

Kara repeated the words in her mind until they were true. It was a minor setback, that was all. It was nothing.

 

The woman ignored her comment, tapping an impatient foot until Kara relented and moved aside, making herself relax enough to make way with a gracious sweep of her arm. It helped, the flowing gesture completely under her control and without menace, and as the woman stepped past her—their movements dancing around and reacting to each other—it was a further reminder that she was here, that she was present.

 

“So, you’re afraid of flying.” Kara had been about to leave but clearly the woman wasn’t done with her yet, finishing her unnecessary straightening of various pins in the mirror before turning back to look at Kara with a raised eyebrow. “Well I’m apprehensive about talking to crazy people who hold conversations with themselves-”

 

“It was hardly a conversation!” Kara interjected, receiving a glare for her effort, but it was worth it as each second of interaction brought her closer to reclaiming her confidence.  

 

“You say that as if it makes it better. At least if it was a conversation you would be moving forward, rather than just stating the same thing over and over again.” Had Kara been doing that? Sure, she had been repeating herself, but it wasn’t in her nature to stay still. No, she had been moving forward, sorting. She hadn’t been stagnant. She refused. “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” another glare, and Kara wisely decided not to point out that the woman had interrupted her first. “I’m apprehensive around people who talk to themselves, but now you’re talking to me, not yourself. I have fixed the problem by removing the flaw. Well...” the woman eyed her, grimacing in distaste at Kara’s cheerful, yellow cardigan, “the one I can fix anyway. The rest of _this_ ,” she gestured to all of Kara, “is a bit above my pay grade at the moment. You’ll have to find someone else for that.”

 

And then she spun on her heel and left, all very dramatic and choreographed in a way that left Kara with the distinct impression that she was looking at a younger, alternative version of Cat Grant. And that helped even more, thinking of Cat with those words ringing in her ears. Thinking about how Cat was that ‘someone else’ that she wanted to notice her. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to get out of this bathroom and into Cat’s presence.

 

What would Cat do in the face of her fear, her flaw? Cat had only seen her be perfect thus far, even when she had withdrawn the other night she still hadn’t shown a weakness. But now? Kara bit her lip, raw energy coursing through her. She wanted a challenge, and Cat had been giving that to her already, but this offered a chance for even more. And Cat… that night Cat had started to engage in a way she hadn’t as of yet. If that continued and Cat was presented with this Kara, would she pounce?

 

With one last look at herself in the mirror to make sure everything was in place, Kara walked out of the bathroom to go find out.

 

////////////////////////

 

“Your latte, Miss Grant.”

 

Cat accepted the drink automatically, the tight knot in her stomach loosening as she took her first sip and the hot liquid burned its way down her throat. Part of her wanted to be indignant that Kara had somehow managed to hunt down the only decent coffee in the place—something that had taken Cat years to do herself—but the relief of seeing Kara, _this_ Kara, drowned out everything else.

 

Kara’s reception of the news about the trip hadn’t been at all what Cat had been expecting. She had expected a small amount of confusion, those precious seconds fueling Cat’s thirst for more, but then Kara should have bounced back. She should have continued to play, not knowing that it was a game she would eventually lose.

 

But that hadn’t happened. Instead Kara had shut down, drawing in on herself, and that hadn’t been Cat’s intention. That Kara had been, just... _wrong_ somehow, and what little Cat had seen of her the following Monday hadn’t shown any improvement. It was enough to make Cat start to question herself, wondering if she had gone too far, even as she didn’t know how her announcement could have had such an effect.

 

Of course the real reason she was concerned was because of balance. That was the key. She couldn’t very well play into the game if Kara wasn’t actively engaged. She needed Kara to be in a place where Cat could push, and where she could be sure that Kara would push back.

 

Kara was there now. Cat was sure of it. Arriving at the airport ahead of her, going beyond expectation in a way that seemed calculated to annoy Cat, not to mention that open, excited smile, this was the Kara she was used to. It was the Kara she wanted to, no, _could_ play with, and that meant that balance had been restored.

 

“This isn’t my usual, Kiera, but I suppose it will have to do.” She let out an exaggerated sigh as she spoke, turning away dismissively to hide the genuine smile that graced her lips as soon as her back was turned. She let it linger, giving herself time to ease the worry and settle back into her character before starting off.

 

Kara trailed after her, and while with anyone else Cat would have double checked to make sure that they had grabbed her discarded luggage, with Kara she knew she didn’t have to. Her smile faltered as she realized that. It was unsettling, this feeling of trust, especially in the face of what she was trying to do to the girl—how she was planning on using Kara for her own ends. She just had to hope that this would all be wrapped up soon and that her discomfort would never grow strong enough for any lasting ramifications.

 

“I’m sorry it’s not the latte I normally bring you, Miss Grant, but the barista who made this used to work at Noonan’s, so it should be close.” Cat hadn’t known that, and she half-wondered if it was a lie made up to cover for a (presumed) sub-par drink, but Kara’s next words drove that thought from her mind. “I wouldn’t have been able to get your usual through security. I did consider trying, but there are some limits as to what I can achieve.”

 

Cat should have kept walking, but Kara openly admitting to having a limit—drawing attention to it even—it was enough to make her pause mid-stride, her head swiveling around to reassess her assistant. She had been so relieved when she first laid eyes on the girl that she had missed something. Kara was nothing if not an excellent at her job, finding ways of getting anything and everything done without complaint. So what was this? Was she setting Cat up to be disappointed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the demands of the trip? Was she growing tired of all Cat’s orders and getting ready to move on? It couldn’t be. Kara wouldn’t… Cat had been so sure, just moments ago.

 

Then she saw it, the subtle tells that something was wrong cutting off the flow of her thoughts. Kara was pale and her hand, resting on the handle of Cat’s luggage, was trembling.

 

“Are you…” the words left her mouth without permission, and Cat just barely caught herself from finishing the question and asking Kara if she was alright. That would be a step too far at this stage in the game, to ask such a thing so easily. She had to hold back until she was the one in control. Until she was the one directing the conversation rather than responding to Kara leading her in that direction. “...quite done making excuses? We have a plane to catch.” It wasn’t a flawless save, but it would do for now.

 

Turning away again without waiting for a reply, Cat resumed her brisk walk with a determination to ignore Kara until she could make sure that whatever happened next was on her terms.

 

It took five hours and thirty-two minutes before Cat felt that it was safe to speak.

 

The time passed slowly as she pretended not to see Kara hesitate before stepping onto the plane, how she flinched when the door clanged shut. Cat overlooked how Kara’s hands curled into fists as the plane took off and how every air pocket was met with a gasp and the tightening of her shoulders. It became increasingly clear with every painfully slow minute that Kara was afraid of flying, and also, that Kara was not trying particularly hard to hide it.

 

The old Cat, the pre-game Cat, would have ignored it. That Cat wanted to push Kara, yes, but not with something so real. That Cat wanted to break Kara down and squeeze answers from her, because that Cat was only interested in one thing, in E.M. That Cat didn’t care about getting to the real Kara at all. But the new Cat, well, she knew that the only way to get her answers was through the real Kara, not around her. The new Cat was still going to push Kara until she broke open. She was going to drag her out of her comfort zone once they reached Atlantis, but she was also going to be there to say things were ok when Kara inevitably messed up, to confound her with acceptance instead of dismissal. The new Cat was going to reel Kara in until she won, which meant that she couldn’t ignore what was happening on the plane.

 

Lifting her head from her tablet and the work she had been pretending to do, Cat watched Kara until she noticed and looked up to meet Cat’s eyes. It didn’t take long, Kara was always so good at feeling Cat’s gaze on her and knowing without being asked. It was something that Cat had started to grow accustomed to, something she would almost miss, when this was over.

 

They were sitting across from each other—not directly—on opposite sides of the aisle, but close enough that Cat could see the dilated pupils and fists that were still tightly clenched, even hours after the plane had settled into smooth flight.

 

“Are you ill?” There, she kept it simple—a question that showed Cat was engaged, while at the same time not betraying that she had noticed enough to realize the source of Kara’s distress. It was the balance she had been looking for, and she was glad she approached it that way when Kara leaned forward, eyes seeking, and gave Cat her response.

 

/////////////////

 

“I’m afraid of flying,” Kara shifted forward as she spoke. She hadn’t intended to, but Cat kept her waiting so long and Kara needed to be close for whatever was to come. She wanted to be engulfed in it, consumed by it, this thing Cat could give her that no one else would.

 

“I see,” Cat nodded, a thoughtful frown appearing on her face. “You should have told me before we took off,” Kara’s heart spiked in anticipation of the next words—the triumph she was sure she would see as Cat dove into her hatred, encouraged by Kara’s omission. Cat had never been cruel before, but this, this would give her the means. And that would be something new, another level of intensity that Kara wanted.

 

“In most cases I would suggest pills, and when we get to Atlantis I’ll see if there’s a doctor there who can get you set up with some for the return trip, but as it’s too late for this flight. I have some breathing techniques that I can show you. I used to be afraid of heights when I was younger and the exercises helped me. I’ll deny this if it ever gets out, but on occasion I still use them when venturing out onto my balcony.”

 

Kara blinked. This was… it was… it wasn’t what she wanted, but at the same time… her mind whirled as she tried to keep up. She wanted more of Cat, that was true. She wanted to make Cat crack open and share what was underneath, but this… Cat giving it to her? Just like that? And it was the wrong answer! It was _nice_ , and Kara did not want Cat for nice. She had Alex and Eliza for that, not to mention pretty much every other person she had ever encountered. Cat was her opposite! Cat was her new! Cat was her…

 

While she had been thinking Cat shifted seats, moving to the one next to Kara, and the soft touch of Cat’s fingers against her hand brought Kara back to the present. Cat had never touched her before, not once in the time they had been working together, and with her defenses already lowered as they were right now, that one small touch became a pillar. The heat of Cat’s hand seeped into her, and she only just contained a whimper at the sensation.

 

Kara could feel her, feel Cat, and Cat was real.

 

Kara had wanted Cat’s touch, thought about it on numerous occasions, wondering how Cat’s emotions would manifest themselves on her body. But Cat was always so careful about it, and even when handing off coffee or papers their fingers never brushed. She had thought, occasionally, that Cat had wanted to. She had wondered if there was a twitch in Cat’s fingers when Kara did something exceptionally aggravating, but it was never enough to be sure. The idea of actually feeling Cat was a distant dream and it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

 

But now that it had? Even though it was soft? She did not want to give it up.

 

It wasn’t what she had expected, but was that so bad? All it meant was that Cat was even more complex than Kara had originally realized and that it would be more of a challenge to break through. So did it matter that Cat could be this? Did it matter when the feeling of Cat’s skin against her own was this solid, when it felt this safe?

 

Cat’s fingers worked around the closed fist of her right hand and Kara allowed the older woman to relax her grip, watching in a kind of awe as the strength of her fist gave way to Cat’s presence.

 

“Place your hand here,” Cat maneuvered Kara so her right hand was spread open across her stomach, before reaching for her left, rubbing slow circles over the back of the hand until it too relaxed, and then directing it to her chest. “Now when you’re ready, I want you to breath in slowly to a count of ten, and while you do, focus on how the air is moving through you. Feel it fill your lungs and expand in your stomach and lower back, but don’t let your shoulders and chest rise. Then you’re going to hold it for another count of ten, and then release with a third count. Don’t think about anything but the numbers and your breathing. Just be here, in your body. Do you think you can do that, Kiera?”

 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and half-wishing for once that her hair was down so that it could hide the blush she felt coloring her cheeks.

 

“Alright, now with me. One, two, three…”

 

Kara let Cat’s voice wash over her, breathing under Cat’s direction until she felt the fear begin to lose its hold. Kara Danvers let herself give in, and somewhere, is a space she wouldn't fully acknowledge, something else stirred as well. For a brief moment, Kara Zor-El stared into green eyes, and she was not afraid.

 

/////////////////////

 

Cat could still feel the pulse of Kara’s heartbeat under her fingers an hour later when she stepped off the plane, beating too fast but also so very strong. She hadn’t meant to touch the girl. She had been so careful about it. Sure, she had wanted to, at times, but Cat tried to limit her physical contact with people outside of her family to firm, polite handshakes, or the occasional required dance at a social event. She couldn’t always keep to that—the nights she fell into bed with near strangers was proof enough of that—but restricting the small, familiar touches with acquaintances to a minimum was the best way to prevent herself from wanting more—from _needing_ more. But seeing Kara’s shock when she had reacted to the omission with understanding had spurred her into action.

 

Once again she had underestimated Kara, underestimated just how much she seemed to crave the combat. And Cat would give her that, in the days to come, but she prided herself on being, if not a good person per-say, then a decent one. She was starting to wonder if this path she was on with Kara would destroy that image of herself, but she knew there was no backing out now. So when she had seen that look, she had allowed herself to be soft. Not for Kara’s sake, not wholly, but for her own. She had needed to prove to herself that she could be gentle, because then when this was all over, then perhaps she could look back at this one thing and remember that she wasn’t a complete monster.

 

And Kara… well, Kara had seemed dazed, but that had lasted only as long as the plane was in the air. Once it had landed she had come back to herself, and aside from the fact that Kara was standing a little closer than was normal between them, there was nothing to indicate that this girl was anything but her overly helpful, exceedingly challenging, assistant.

 

“Miss Grant, I am honored to welcome you to Atlantis!” Arthur's hand enveloped her own, his calloused fingers driving away the memory of Kara’s warmth, and Cat felt a brief flicker of sadness before she shoved it aside and graced him with her most impeccable smile.

 

“Call me Cat, please. And the honor is mine,” the Atlantean words slid off her tongue with only a slight accent. She couldn’t say much more than that with confidence, but the surprise on both his and Kara’s faces was gratifying.

 

“Cat then,” he beamed, and Cat couldn’t help herself from comparing the smile to one of Kara’s. Kara’s, whose smiles fluctuated between the sun and the moon, sometimes so bright, so entranced by the world around her, and other times seeming to be just a reflection of something else that Cat couldn’t fully fathom. But Arthur, his smile was between those, open and charming, but still wary. This trip was the culmination of two years of effort, but the status of the project and Atlantis’ relationship to the outside world was still tedious enough that if something major went wrong now, it could mark the end of their endeavor.

 

“And you must be Kara.” He pivoted in place to shake Kara’s hand as well. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Anyone who can keep up with Cat Grant must be something special.” Cat looked away, her lips twitching to suppress a frown in something that was absolutely _not_ jealousy as Kara smiled back and offered a greeting of her own. He was about to say something else, but Cat stepped forward, forcing Arthur to back up so he could keep them both in view.

 

“Shall we?” She nodded towards the car that was to take them from the airport to their residence for the next few days. It was still early enough that they could get some work done, but they would be stopping at the apartment first to freshen up after the flight.

 

She would have preferred a hotel—a place where Kara could be sent off at the end of the day and where there wouldn't be a shared common room, but Atlantis was small enough not to have hotels for local travelers, and the first one for international visitors was still being built. As such, they would be staying in an apartment lent to them by one of Arthur’s associates and Cat couldn't be overly picky. She knew how hard it must have been for him to replace the original, one bedroom space with a two bedroom one on such short notice.

 

“Yes, yes, right this way.” Arthur moved on ahead, opening the door and ushering them in with a little bow.

 

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble, considering how late I made my request?” She waited until they were all seated to bring it up, wanting to recognize Arthur for his effort.

 

“Oh, it was no problem at all, I assure you! All I had to do was change around some of the restaurant reservations. Originally I was planning on dining with you each evening and showing you some of the most prominent places in the city, but once I heard you were bringing your partner, I thought you might prefer a more intimate setting. As for the other arrangements, I confess I enlisted help.”

 

Cat’s eyebrows drew together at his words, but she let it slide. Arthur’s English was excellent but it was to be expected that some nuances would be lost.

 

“I did keep the original reservation for tonight, but I added another seat for the addition of the extra help I mentioned. My friend, Mera, will be joining us. She’s in charge of the new tourism department, and while they expect a lot of work once the hotel is finished, right now she hardly has enough on hand to keep someone of her skills busy. She was thrilled when I mentioned that you would be bringing your partner.” There was that word again, she would have to find some subtle way of stressing Kara’s true title later. “While you and I are going over CatCo affairs, Mera has organized several days of activities for Kara.”

 

“I won’t be attending the meetings?” Kara spoke up, tilting her head to the side in that way that Cat would find distracting if Arthur’s last statement hadn’t caused wave of foreboding to wash over her.

 

“Oh! You two are colleagues?” Arthur’s eyes widened in panic, his exuberance showing a small crack. His words came faster as he realized he may not have set things up correctly, that already there might be a mistake. “Your relationship… it’s not… well, I assure you, it will be no trouble for me to…”

 

He was still talking but Cat wasn’t listening. What was it he had said? He had only changed the restaurants, not the room? What if… if ‘partner’ wasn’t a language misunderstanding, and ‘relationship’…

 

“Mera will be a bit disappointed. She was looking forward to using you as her guinea-pig before the large groups start to visit, so now that I think about it,” he smiled, but the anxious look in his eyes belayed his uncertainty, “it might be better for your safety if you are with us in meetings all day. Knowing her, her plans would test the stamina of any sane human.”

 

Cat cursed herself, this was really all her fault, and she felt her hard work begin to slip through her grasp. Admitting the truth would require Arthur to spend time finding a fix, then rushing around to alter plans, and by the time they got to the real work he would be so on edge that she wasn’t sure they would be able to make the project deadline. And if they missed that… well, investors on both sides would shut them down without a second thought.  

 

But it couldn’t be helped. They could pull it off, she knew. Atlantis’ connection to the outside world was still tenuous enough that news about her ‘relationship’ with her assistant wouldn't get out, and once the trip was over it was unlikely that anyone on Atlantis would hear anything to the contrary. And if they did, it wouldn’t be until much later, by which point Cat could say that the relationship had ended. But still, she wouldn't put Kara, put anyone who worked for her, in that position.

 

She opened her mouth to ruin everything, already imagining what her mother would say when she returned home empty handed, but Kara beat her too it.

 

“We do work together as well, that’s actually how we met,” Cat felt her heart stop. Of course. Of course Kara had come to the same conclusion she had, just as Kara had also realized what Cat was about to do. And Kara, willing to do anything for the job—to get at Cat—Kara, wouldn't let her.  “But I think the plans are perfect as they are. Honestly we were worried that there wouldn’t be any time to really get a feel for Atlantis with both of us working, but we didn’t want to ask you to go through the trouble of arranging a way for us to explore the island. This solves all our problems.”

 

Kara’s hand shifted to grab hers, fingers curling around Cat’s as if they belonged, and where Cat’s heart had stopped before, now it skipped into overdrive. This was twice in one day. Twice, that she had experienced how good it felt to have that hand in her own. Twice, and already her need was bubbling up, demanding that there be a third.

 

The relief on Arthur’s face was palpable. “Oh thank god. I was afraid I had misinterpreted the situation. Although, if I had,” he continued, trying to ease some of the tension with a joke, “Mera would have been pleased. You’re just her type.” He winked at Kara, and if Cat’s hand tightened around Kara’s fingers in response, it didn’t mean anything.

 

Not one thing.

**Author's Note:**

> So much thanks to abcooper and rtarara for all the edits and support they have given me on this fic. <3


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